


Diligent

by acchikocchi



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/pseuds/acchikocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura is in high school. Sanada-sensei is in hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diligent

**Author's Note:**

> One snapshot of a longer story. Irrelevant to this particular ficlet, but it's set in the same universe as co-conspirator [scheherazade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade)'s excellent Tezuka/Fuji fic [Commencement](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1058093) — if this is your kind of thing, you might enjoy that one, too.
> 
> Title is from the saying 千日の勤学よりも一日の学匠: "Better than a thousand days of diligent study is one day with a great teacher."

The rest of his students had long since poured out of the classroom in a maelstrom of slang and untidy uniforms. The blackboard was clean, his books and papers were in meticulous order; he could only busy himself for so long. Finally he looked up and acknowledged the lone figure standing before the teacher's desk.

"Yukimura." Sanada couldn't bring himself to add _-kun_. Reading his school file had been bad enough. March 5, 198— Sanada cut off that thought before it could advance. "You have a question about the reading?"

"Yes," Yukimura said, smiling. "Well. A bit. Have you ever played tennis, sensei?"

"What? No. What does that have to do with anything?" Yukimura was captain of the tennis club, which he knew because of the damned file. Which he knew anyway, because he'd seen Yukimura carrying a racket case every morning, because the teacher's lounge looked over the front grounds. He was lucky it didn't look over the tennis court.

Yukimura's smile could slay a demon at thirty paces. "Really? I think you'd be very good at it. Would you like me to teach you?"

"Kendo is enough." Sanada shook his head, but that didn't clear it. "Does this have anything to do with class?"

Yukimura's smile turned secretive. "If you don't know, maybe I shouldn't tell you."

"Yukimura." Sanada frowned. "I don't have time to play."

"Don't you?" Yukimura rounded the desk. "We're not in class right now, Sanada-sensei." Yukimura reached out, and Sanada almost twitched away, but Yukimura was aiming for his loosened tie. He caught it between thumb and forefinger; they ran along the silky edge, then tugged.

"Let go," Sanada said curtly—or so he intended, but it came out harsh, harsher than he'd meant or felt. The smile dropped from Yukimura's face.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Sensei. Don't you like me?"

Sanada was helpless not to look at him. In Yukimura's eyes was a flicker of—it couldn't be uncertainty. His shoulders were slumped. Sanada inhaled deeply. "Yes. I. Yes."

Yukimura smiled, then, and Sanada felt the trap's jaws close around him. Uncertain. He was a fool. Yukimura's two fingers tugged at the tie as he leaned forward, secure in what he'd wanted, and Sanada began to bend his head—

Both hands descended on Yukimura's shoulders and Sanada pushed him back to arm's length as he stood ramrod-straight. " _No_."

Yukimura looked betrayed. "Sensei!" He moved, testing. Sanada's grip held firm. Yukimura subsided, a frown creasing his brows.

He was still holding Sanada's tie.

Sanada kept one hand on Yukimura's shoulder and moved the other to close around Yukimura's own, lifting it from the tie. Yukimura didn't resist. His hand was smooth and cool; Sanada's curved around it like they were made to fit together.

Sanada released the hand like it was burning.

"Sensei," Yukimura said again, crossing his arms over his chest as the crease between his brows deepened. "Stop it." 

"Stop what."

"You like me." Yukimura spoke with confidence — horrifying confidence — but also with frustration. "I know you do. Why bother pretending?"

"I'm not—" Sanada cut himself short and started over. "My fee—thoughts are entirely irrelevant. This isn't an appropriate subject for a student to discuss with a teacher."

The short, eloquent movement of Yukimura's shoulders dismissed "appropriate" without consideration. "It's not against the law."

"It's against the rules." Sanada turned deliberately away from Yukimura and began to stack the books on his desk. "I have a meeting, so if there's nothing else, Yukimura-kun." 

When Yukimura didn't answer, he told himself to ignore it, and after a moment he heard the swish of cloth as Yukimura brushed past him. The footsteps stopped, but he didn't hear the door open. Against his better judgement, Sanada looked up.

Yukimura was smiling again. It wasn't a child's expression. In the pit of his stomach, Sanada felt a curl of deep, deep foreboding.

"I'm not very obedient. _Sensei_."

The door closed with a soft _snick_.


End file.
